Jolinar Telvanni and the God of Mischief
by Midwinter's-Night-Dream-86
Summary: A Dunmer encounters the God of Mischief himself and their meeting does not go quite as expected. One Shot. Complete. 3/26/18—Now multichaptered.
1. Jolinar Telvanni and the God of Mischief

**This is just a humorous short I wrote a while back while playing with memes and crossover ideas. My Dunmer Mage Thief, Jolinar Telvanni, and the God of Mischief encounter each other one day and things don't go at all as expected.**

 **Loki © Marvel, Skyrim © Bethesda, Jolinar © Me**

"Let it go, Let it go..."

Jolinar Telvanni spun around and round, flinging ice from her equally blue hands while singing at the top of her lungs. From the top of Mount Anthor, no one could see her or her ice magic. Well, unless that pesky dragon came back, then she'd have to call the Dragonborn and that would take ages...

"...can't hold it back anymo-ohff!"

Suddenly, Jolinar was knocked over when a great beam of rainbow light shot from the heavens and connected with the ground barely ten yards from her position. She watched as a beam of light traveled down the rainbow funnel before the thing vanished, leaving behind its deposit.

A very tall man in dark, almost black leathers with golden armor and a strange helmet kinda similar in style to those worn by the elves in Cyrodiil some two hundred ish years ago stepped out of the strange ring that the rainbow light funnel had left in the snow.

Jolinar frowned. Someone probably noticed that.

The man raised an eyebrow at the ice spikes Jolinar had shot into...everything, before turning to face the caster herself. His eyes widened when he saw her, slumped in a sitting position in the snow and watching him with blood red eyes. He started forward and towered over her, staring at her in a way that reminded her of a few very insane scholars that she knew. Jolinar scooted back a little. He probably was mad. Like Septimus.

"Red eyes...blue skin...ARE YOU A RUNTY BABY FROST GIANT TOO?!"

Jolinar flinched at the stranger's sudden outburst. "Um, no...I'm a dark elf, you know, a Dunmer..."

She trailed off on the last word when the crazy guy staggered back, as if stricken.

"A dark elf?!" He whispered in awe.

"Yeah..." The Archmagister raised a blonde eyebrow in confusion.

"You are one of the Svartálfr?"

"Yeah, wait, no, I'm-"

The man stepped forward again and poked Jolinar in the cheek before she swatted his hand away with a hissed, "Oi!"

"Interesting, you appear to be a Svartálfr disguised as a Jötunn just as I am a Jötunn disguised as an Æsir! Amazing!"

Jolinar stood up, deciding that, whoever he was, this guy was crazier than Cynric after one too many bottles of mead. She walked over to the strange circle the man had caused with his rainbow funnel.

"Hey," she called back to him in an attempt to change the subject. "What're these markings for?"

"What? Oh, they're mainly just decorative, though they're used to channel the Bifrost, to an extent," he replied dismissively, still staring at her.

"I see, well, I'm Jolinar Aran and this is Skyrim. Who are you?"

"Loki Laufeyson," the man said, "God of Mischief."


	2. The Case of the Runty Frost Giants

**Because you honestly thought that I could actually leave this plot bunny alone. Because Jolinar and Loki kept sucker punching me while wearing bunny suits (yeah...), I've turned out another installment for the two. Who knows? I may even add** ** _more_** **one day. Maybe. Because we know my track record.**

 **Because, people! Geez...**

"There's an entire race of runty baby frost giants!"

"Shut up, Loki."

The God of Mischief, as he had called himself on their first meeting, scoffed at the dark elf woman at his side. Her blonde curls danced in the faint wind that whistled through the broken, grey city, but he was more interested in their destination than the appearance of his strange hostess.

She had dragged him, horned helmet and all, away from the site of Bifrost's connection to this planet. Away from the curved wall carved in jagged ruins and down, down through snowy hills and valleys to a place that she called Windhelm. A massive grey fortress built up beside a half frozen river. She said it was their most ancient city. A city of kings.

Asgard was the City of Kings. This Windhelm was dismal and bleak in comparison. Full of broken, downtrodden people bitten with not only the frost, but also with other things, deeper and not dissimilar.

But these thoughts, as pressing as they were, were pushed aside when Jolinar Aren led him into the city itself, over chipped stones and mounds of snow, and down, still down into an alley she called the Grey Quarter. Her face was drawn and ashen when she said the name, and he understood at once that she detested the place, or at least something about it.

But what caught his attention in this Grey Quarter, apart from the Lady Jolinar's ill feelings, was the sight of numerous people, all shorter than him, with varying shades of blue skin and gleaming red eyes.

An entire race of runty baby frost giants!

"Dark elves," Lady Jolinar said, as if reading his mind.

"Of course," Loki nodded innocently. But he found that he could not quite believe her. Even if every last one of them claimed to be a svartálfr, the fact remained that they appeared just as he was meant to under the Æsir form the All-Father had given him.

Lady Jolinar clearly did not believe him as she shot him a glare, which was made rather threatening given the blood red tint of her eyes. But Loki wasn't bothered with that, puzzled as he was with the conundrum of dark elves disguised as runty frost giants.

He dwelled on this as the Lady Jolinar led him up to a tall but rundown wooden building. It was hustled against the inner walls of the city, almost like a child huddling against his mother's skirt.

Lady Jolinar pulled him inside before he could question her or protest or do anything at all.

Once inside, he didn't think to do much of anything except stare, because it was a whole tavern — "The New Gnisis Cornerclub," Jolinar said — full of...

"Runty baby frost giants!"

"Dark elves..." Lady Jolinar sighed. "We're Dunmer."

Loki just grinned stupidly at the crowd, which persistently ignored his presence in the room.

Of course, his excitement was quickly overshadowed by a troubling thought: why were there so many runty baby frost giants? Had there been an epidemic on Jötunheimr that resulted in several generations of frost giant babies being abandoned on this far-flung planet because they were...runty?

As Lady Jolinar made her way up to the bar, Loki plopped down at an empty table, deep in thought.

This would require further investigation.


End file.
